


Anything for a taste

by jestbee



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28228221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jestbee/pseuds/jestbee
Summary: Phil has been a TA for the last few years while completing his PhD, which has mostly consisted of paperwork and covering the occasional seminar, but in all that time he can't remember taking notice of any student in particular.That is, until Daniel Howell walks into the second class of term wearing a ripped shirt that hangs off one shoulder, the delicate curve of his collarbone exposed to the hush of the room.Then Phil is a goner.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 92





	Anything for a taste

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently _this_ is my comeback? I'm so sorry. 
> 
> But, that Phil video amirite? Professor Phil. Dan practically asked for this.
> 
> **For clarification:** Dan in this universe is a postgraduate student and Phil is doing his PhD, they are therefore both over the age of 21 and their age difference is similar to real life. Thank you.
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr or whatever if you like it.

It was around the second class of term when Phil became obsessed with the man in his postgraduate English class. 

He'd been a TA for the last few years while completing his PhD, which had mostly consisted of paperwork and covering the occasional seminar, but in all that time he couldn't remember taking notice of any student in particular. Until Daniel Howell walked into the second class of term wearing a ripped shirt that hung off one shoulder, the delicate curve of his collarbone exposed to the hush of the room. 

Phil couldn't take his eyes off him.

He'd tried, at first, to ignore the way his heart thudded, how his cock swelled in his tweed trousers at the mere sight of each revealing outfit of Dan's, until he couldn't ignore it anymore. 

Office hours were reserved for students to contact their lecturer or advisors, but Phil liked to be on hand as well in case students needed help. He was a good TA, and a good student himself, but all of that felt like a foolish endeavour when Dan Howell walked into the tiny office he was borrowing and crossed one leg over the other in the tightest leggings Phil had ever seen, ripped down the front with fishnet in the holes. 

"How can I help?" He asked, trying to keep his voice level. 

Dan was in an oversized jumper, the sleeves hung down over his hands, but each time he moved Phil could see the expanse of pale skin disappearing beneath it, the glint of a silver hoop in his ear. It made him salivate. 

"I need you," Dan said. He ran his tongue over his lip as he did, wetting it. 

Phil felt the blood pool in his cock, already twitching. "Uh—" 

Dan smiled, and Phil swore he could see a flash of amusement in his eyes. 

"To study," he continued. "I could really do with the help." 

And that was it. Somewhere along the way, with an aching erection guiding him way more than his senses, Phil agreed to a weekly study session on a Wednesday evening. 

From then on, Wednesdays became a test of his willpower. Dan showed up to session after session, wearing something revealing so that Phil could see all the promise of things he wanted, or else so covered up in oversized items that Phil was overcome with the desire to push his hands underneath to feel the soft curves he could no longer see. 

Sometimes he wore make up, or put a product in his hair that made his curls sparkle. Once, he brought a pen with a candy topper that he sucked on as Phil tried to dissect a section of his critical theory essay in order to improve it. 

And it wasn't just the outfits. Dan had a way of finding ways to touch him. He put his large hands over top of Phil's when pointing at sentences, pressed their shoulders together as they leaned over heavy tomes. He smiled too often, lingered in his stares, and Phil didn't know if it was accidental or if he was just reading into things that weren't there at all.

It all came to a head after about six weeks. Phil had maintained his composure for the most part, kept his hands off Dan during their sessions but brought himself off quick and rough the moment he got home, jacking his cock by shoving a hand into his pants, without even removing his clothes so that he messed all over the outfits he wore to stay so professional. 

But it wouldn't be enough forever. 

Dan was often running late, arriving flushed and out of breath and while that made Phil think of all the situations he might otherwise be breathless, he had always been a stickler for punctuality. 

So when Dan didn't show on time for the sixth week in a row, Phil called him. 

"Can't you just come here?" Dan asked. 

His voice sounded deeper on the phone. Slow and sensual, and Phil's mind supplied him with the image of Dan fucked out and drowsy even though that couldn't possibly be the case.

Phil agreed to go not because of that image, but because they'd made an agreement. At least, that's what he told himself.

When he arrived, Dan wasn't a sex-drunk thing of Phil's fantasies, but it was a close second.

He wore only a white oversized t-shirt and a thin floaty jacket made of black silk that might have been some kind of night gown in another life. 

He answered the door without really looking at Phil, throwing it wide and stepping inside with a flourish, the silk billowing out behind him.

"What are you— that outfit is—" Phil couldn't complete any sentences. 

It was, in the end, that tiny jacket and the skimpy hem of a t-shirt, that broke his resolve.

"Do you like it?" Dan asked, dropping it from his shoulders, catching it in the crook of his elbows and looking back over his arm at Phil. 

Phil couldn't take any more.

"You can't just… do you know what you're doing to me?" 

Dan dropped the jacket from his elbows, his long t-shirt hitting him in the middle of a creamy, pale thigh, long legs extended below. Phil felt faint. 

"What am I doing?" Dan asked, as if he hadn't been torturing Phil for months. As if every look, every accidental touch hadn't been specifically designed to drive Phil to the point of no return. To right where he was now. 

His lips shone with a shiny gloss, his nails were black and his eyelids pink and Phil wanted to smear himself in all that colour.

"You're… I feel as though I would do just about anything for just a taste of you. Do you know what that's like? What I have become?"

Phil was hot under his jacket. His collar tight, the confines of all his plain clothes the perfect contrast to the wild, vivid beauty of Dan. 

"Anything?" Dan asked, ignoring the pathetic wretchedness of the rest of it. 

Phil nodded, a desperate wracked sob clawing its way out of his throat. "Yes, anything."

"Get on all fours," Dan said. 

Phil blinked, dumbstruck at the brazen way Dan had suggested it. As if asking him to pass the salt or open a window. 

"Huh?"

"I said get on all fours. You said you'd do anything." 

Challenge flashed in Dan's eyes. He lifted one hip onto the arm of the couch, sitting down, knees lightly spread, the t-shirt riding up so that Phil knew it was impossible he was wearing anything underneath it. 

And Phil… he was sick of wanting. More than that, he was sick of acting like he didn't want. So, shamed and hot-cheeked with embarrassment, Phil dropped to his knees and crawled. 

He didn't know what point in his life had been the turning point, what decision he'd made that brought him here, cowed and begging at the feet of a man much younger and much more casual than anything he'd experienced before, but here he was. 

Dan's legs swayed, apart and then back together, and Phil's mouth felt empty, his lips parting. 

"God," Dan said. "You really want it." 

He said it like every person in his life didn't want him at first sight, like he didn't have a line of pathetic men willing to supplicate themselves at his feet, and Phil knew that couldn't be true. 

"Yeah," he said, finding it easier to admit than he might have expected. "I want it."

Dan leaned back, his hand gripped the sofa, steadying himself. "Go on then," he said. "Take it."

Phil didn't want to waste precious seconds worrying about whether this was a sensible decision, and even if the thought had occurred to him he doubted that his body would have allowed him to resist Dan a second longer. 

His fingertips touched the smooth skin of Dan's thigh inside his knee. He was just as soft as Phil had imagined, yet way more compliant. 

As Phil's fingers travelled upward, they snagged on the edge of Dan's t-shirt, slipping it up to reveal the thick, pink length of his cock. He was groomed here too, smooth and fragrant, Phil couldn't help the groan, low under his breath. 

"Touch me," Dan said. 

He wouldn't believe that Dan was as desperate as he was, but the way his voice sounded might have persuaded him if he didn't know better. 

Phil encircled his cock with his fingers, silky skin over hard, hot muscle, and opened his mouth, letting his tongue unfurl to taste the thick, salty head of it. 

Dan whined and his cock twitched in Phil's grip. 

"God," Phil said. 

"Please," Dan said. 

Gone was the confident, coquettish tease Phil knew, replaced by a squirming needy thing. He didn't know which he liked better.

"I've got you," Phil said. 

He took Dan in his mouth, sinking down around it under his lips met the circle of his fingers and Dan's slit hit the back of his throat. He took a deep breath through his nose, swallowing around him, curling his tongue just to hear Dan moan, and then tested his own limits. It had been a while since he'd bothered to do this with someone, but Dan's high pitched sound drove him on, made him remove his hand and open his throat so that Dan could slide right past his gag reflex. 

Dan seemed to lose all sense of himself. His head thrashed, knuckles turning white where they were still fisted against the couch cushion. 

Phil pulled off slow, moving his tongue along the fat vein on the underside, before sinking back down. Precum flooded his mouth, tangy and wanton, and Phil drank him down. 

"Oh, fuck, Phil," Dan screamed, and Phil bobbed his head to see if he could make him say it again. 

Dan lasted another few seconds before he was scrabbling at Phil's jacket, tugging on him. "Stop, stop," he said. 

"It's okay," Phil said, quite stupidly. "You can come in my mouth, I want you to." 

Dan shook his head. His cheeks were pink, hair pushed back off his forehead, a sheen of sweat coating him. 

"What?" Phil asked. 

"I want—" he bit his lip, looking more timid and hesitant that Phil had ever seen him. 

Phil felt a swell of power rising in him. His cock was straining against his zip, pushing hard and aching, begging for attention, but he wanted to get a bit of his own back. 

"What do you want?" He asked, sitting back on his heels. 

"Fuck me," Dan said, never breaking eye contact, but his breath hitched, his voice wavering.

"What would you do for it?" Phil asked. 

Dan was leaning back across the cushion, exposed, his cock still slick from Phil's mouth. He looked like that very tableau of debauchery Phil had imagined earlier that night.

"Anything," Dan said. 

Phil smirked. He undid his trousers, flicking the button and easing down his zip. He went slow, watching Dan's eyes track each movement hungrily. 

When he pulled out his cock Dan's mouth fell open and he made a noise that sounded like he'd been punched in the gut. 

"Get on all fours," Phil said. 

Dan scurried to comply. Abandoning his shirt so that he was gloriously, beautifully naked, his hands and knees pressed to the floor, back arched, his perfect ass lifted so that Phil could see the perfect pink pucker of his asshole. 

Dan, it seemed, was well maintained everywhere. 

"You look like you were expecting this," Phil said. 

"Maybe I'm just always prepared," Dan said. "Maybe I have men in here all the time, fucking me, sucking my cock. What makes you think you're special." 

Phil slapped his hand to Dan's ass cheek, watching the skin pink up as Dan dropped his head and moaned. His cock hung thick and heavy between his legs, jumping with the impact, and a bead of precum seeped from the tip. 

"You'll see," Phil said. 

Phil parted Dan's cheeks to get a closer look at him. He wanted to rub his cock right there, to push his way in and feel the tight resistance of his body, but he wouldn't. Dan was a precious, vibrant thing. Like a rare bird that could never be caged but should always be viewed, just like this. In his natural habitat. 

Because this is how Dan should always be, spread open for him, to be feasted upon. 

Phil put his mouth where he wanted his cock. Dan yelped like he hadn’t expected it, like maybe he'd never felt it before. But how could no one have partaken in this? Never licked and sucked at his sweet flesh while he moaned and bucked and pressed his ass back against their tongue. 

He keened like he wanted it, like he would lose his mind if he didn't get it soon.

"I can't," he said, his words babbled and strung together, the spaces between them taken up by his wild, plaintive begging. "Please, Phil, I need—" 

"Shh," Phil said, "I know what you need." 

In truth it was what he needed too. He didn't strip out of his clothes, he didn't even take the time to remove his jacket, simply pushed his pants down to mid thigh and angled his cock to the winking suck of Dan's wet, glistening hole. 

When Phil breached him, Dan groaned low and long and he tried to push his hips back against Phil's steadying grip. But Phil went slowly, watching himself disappear inch by inch into the tight heat of Dan's body.

It felt like an age, a final test of his patience, until he bottom out and they both shivered with the sensation. 

"Fuck me," Dan repeated. 

"Yeah," Phil said, reduced to monosyllabic grunts as he pulled his cock out half way and slammed it back in. 

Dan's body jolted beneath him, and that was enough to make Phil lose what little restraint he had left. 

He thrust into Dan at a punishing pace, using his body to drive them both higher and higher. From Dan's mouth spilled a litany of 'fuck' and 'yes' and 'don't stop' mingled with the unbridled howls of a wild thing. 

Phil, for his part, lost all sense of what he said or when he said it. All he knew was the press of Dan's body, the scent of his skin as they moved together. 

He knew at once that this would never be enough. He could take Dan a thousand times and he would never be satisfied. He wanted more, to own and consume him entirely. It felt dangerous and possessive, but it also scared him more than anything ever had before. 

Dan came first, mewling and writhing on Phil's cock, bouncing his hips to chase it, untouched but wild for it, his release spattering onto the floor, dribbling down his cock in thick, warm pulses. 

Even after, he didn't stop moving. He kept pushing back onto Phil's thrusts until he too was coming, emptying himself into Dan's body, gripping his skin hard enough to leave bruises behind as the only reminder. 

When it was over, Phil slumped over against him, his cheek pressed to the hot, sweaty skin between his shoulder blades. They didn't talk, because everything that could have been said had been. 

They lay there, tangled in their own glorious mess, until Dan lifted a shoulder and Phil let him roll out from underneath him. 

He watched Dan's naked back retreat to the shower, and put himself back to rights. He found a dish towel to clear the carpet as best he could and then ran a hand through his hair and settled down into the very sofa they had just defiled. 

When Dan reappeared, freshly washed and pink all over, he looked surprised to see him. Stripped of colour, he was still beautiful. 

"You're still here?" Dan asked. 

"Your latest essay needs some more work," Phil said. 

"Oh," Dan replied. 

It wouldn't be the last time, Phil would make sure of it. His days of wanking over the thought of Dan were behind him, never again would he settle for the rough, careless tough of his own hand, not when he had known the ecstasy of Dan's body. 

But for now there was work.


End file.
